woman dropped her eyes. I do not know, she whispered. 'I woke one morning and he was gone. I do not know where he is, but I will wait for him, until he returns to me and his son. ' She looked -up quickly. 'He will come back? ' she asked pathetically. 'If not to me then for the child? 'Yes, Robyn answered with certainty that she did not feel. 'Of course he will come back.'
The selection of porters was a lengthy business, and after Zouga had signalled his choice with a slap on the shoulder, the men were sent to Robyn's tent to be examined for signs of disease or infirmity that might prevent them performing their duties.
Then came the allocation of packs.
Although Zouga had already made up and weighed each pack, making sure that not one of them exceeded the stipulated eighty pounds weight, the newly engaged porters had to watch the loads reweighed publicly, and then there was interminable haggling over the size and balance of the burden that each of them would carry for months, perhaps even years ahead.
Although Zouga brusquely forbade Pereira to hasten the selection process with his kurbash, and entered goodnaturedly into the spirit of banter and bargain, he was, in fact, using the occasion to assess the spirit of his men, to pick out the malcontents who would sour that spirit in the hardships ahead, and also to select the natural leaders to whom the others turned instinctively for decision.
The following day when planning the order of march, Zouga used the knowledge he had gained in this way.
To begin with, seven of the more obvious trouble-makers were given a khete of beads each and ordered out of the camp without explanation or apology. Then Zouga called out five of the brightest and best and made them captains of divisions of twenty porters each.
They would be responsible for maintaining the pace of the march, for preventing pilfering of the loads, making and breaking camp, distributing rations, and acting as the spokesmen of each division, presenting complaints to and transmitting orders from Zouga.
When the roll was complete there were one hundred and twenty-six names upon it, including Sergeant Cheroot's Hottentots the porters who had come up from Quelimane, Camacho Pereira and the two principals Robyn and Zouga himself.
it would be a slow and unwieldy caravan unless properly organized, that was bad enough, but on the march it would also be very vulnerable. Zouga gave much thought to defence of the column, and he and Sergeant Cheroot shared the last quarter bottle of whisky as they pooled their experience and planned the order of march.
Zouga, with a small party of local guides and personal bearers, planned to travel independently of the main caravan, reconnoitering the terrain ahead of the march, and making himself free to prospect and hunt as the opportunity arose. He would return most nights to rejoin the caravan, but would be equipped to spend many days out of contact.
Camacho Pereira with five of the Hottentot musketeers would lead the van of the main column, and even when Robyn chaffed him lightly, Zouga saw nothing ludicrous in Camacho marching under the Union Jack. . It's an English expedition, and we will carry the flag, ' Zouga replied stiffly. Rule, Britannia, ' Robyn laughed irreverently, and Zouga ignored her and went on describing the order of march.
The divisions of porters would remain separate but closed up, and Sergeant Cheroot with the remainder of his musketeers would form the rear guard of the column.
There was a simple system of signals to control the movements of the column, a prearranged series of blasts on the kudu-horn trumpets would sound the 'march' or halt', the 'close up' or 'form square'.
For four days Zouga. exercised the column in these evolutions and though proficiency would only come much later, at last he felt that they were ready to make a start, and he told Robyn so. But how are we to cross the river? ' she asked looking across at the north bank.
The river was half a mile wide, and the heavy rainfalls over millions of square miles had drained into it. The flow was swift and powerful. If they were going northwards to the Shire river and Lake Marawi they would need a flotilla of dugout canoes and many days to make the crossing to the north bank.
The steam launch Helen had long ago departed on the flood of the river, making good at least twenty knots with the current pushing her, so she would already be back in Quelimane. All the arrangements have been made, Zouga told her, and she had to be satisfied with that.
On the last day Robyn allowed Juba to accompany her to the cemetery for the first time, and both of them were laden with gifts. Bolts of trade cloth and a thirty-fivepound bag of ceramic beads, the most sought-after scarlet sam-sam variety.
It was as much as she dare ask for from the expedition's stores without arousing Zouga's ire and interest.
She had thought of telling Zouga of Sarah and the child, but had wisely decided against it.
Zouga's reaction to finding a half-brother of mixed blood was too terrible to contemplate. Zouga had acquired his opinions on caste and colour in the hard school of the Indian army, and to find that his own father had trespassed against these iron rules would be too much of a shock. Instead, Robyn had mentioned that she had met one of her father's former servants, who tended their mother's grave over the years. The gift would have to be in proportion to these services.
Sarah and her child were waiting by the grave, and she accepted the gifts with a gracious little curtsy and her palms held together at the level of her eyes. We leave tomorrow, Robyn explained, and saw the immediate regret in Sarah's eyes, followed by acceptance. It is God's will, and Robyn could almost hear her father saying it.
Juba and the child soon became involved in collecting the pods from a kaffir boom tree nearby and stringing together the pretty scarlet lucky beans, each with its little black eye at the end to make necklaces and bracelets. The two of them, girl and boy, made a delightfully uninhibited pair, their laughter and shrill happy voices a pleasant background to the talk under the acacia tree.
Robyn and Sarah had become friends in the short time they had known each other. Her father had written -in his Missionary Travels that he preferred the company of black people to white, and certainly all the evidence seemed to point that way. It seemed that Fuller Ballantyne had done nothing but squabble with his own kind.
Contact with other white men seemed to bring out in him all the pettiness, suspicion and jealousy of his complex nature; while he had spent the greater part of his life with black men, and received from them trust and honour and lasting friendships. His relationship with Sarah was only a natural extension of those feelings, Robyn realized. She contrasted these feelings with those of her brother, and knew that he could never cross the dividing
